


A Damn Bit of Difference

by Alethia



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Canon Character of Color, Canon Disabled Character, Caretaking, Episode Related, F/M, Grief/Mourning, Jossed, Post-Episode: s02e08 Spacewalker
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-21
Updated: 2015-01-21
Packaged: 2018-03-08 13:45:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,762
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3211304
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Alethia/pseuds/Alethia
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Raven's screams finally broke him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Damn Bit of Difference

**Author's Note:**

> Set immediately after episode 2.08 "Spacewalker." Don't read it until you've seen that episode. This story will inevitably be jossed by 2.09 "Remember Me," but I'm writing it anyway because Raven. Also over on [LJ](http://alethialia.livejournal.com/692341.html).

Raven's screams finally broke him. 

Wick had played the good apprentice; he'd done what Sinclair asked, standing behind the crowd as the grounders meted out their justice, even though all he wanted was to rush to Raven's side. But the hand Sinclair clamped on his arm kept him back, gritting his teeth and obeying. It was not his place to question and all that.

He wasn't deferential by nature—it came with the job, questioning everything—but he generally tried to avoid pissing off his boss. Sinclair was his boy, after all; he'd given Wick his shot, they'd kept each other sane during the C-O2 scrubber failure nightmare, and Wick genuinely liked the guy. So he did what he was told and stayed back...right up until Raven started screaming. That hit Wick somewhere base, gut dropping out as her anguish echoed, and suddenly he was _done_. He broke away from Sinclair, ignored the shouts for him to stop, and bolted toward that horrible sound—

Wick found Raven on the ground, Bellamy cradling her, at a loss. But while he held Raven, Bellamy was focused elsewhere: staring down into the valley, his expression a mixture of heartbreak and helplessness, watching Clarke stand with a bloody knife in hand. 

Wick saw all of it in the fraction of a second it took for him to get there, moving so fast he had to skid to stop himself, nearly plowing into the two of them. Then he was by her side, pulling her to him as she blindly sobbed out her pain, so far gone she didn't even notice the manhandling. 

Bellamy met Wick's eyes, clearly torn.

"Go," Wick said, gathering Raven close, her body shaking. 

Bellamy hesitated for another moment, casting worried eyes down at Raven. 

"I got her," Wick said. "Go." He nodded down toward Clarke, frozen in place. Maybe she was just realizing what she'd done. Maybe she was screaming as loud as Raven, only she couldn't let it out, not in front of all the grounders. Or maybe she was just numb. 

Whatever the case, Bellamy clearly wanted to go to her, so Wick waved him off. He had Raven now. She wouldn't be alone. 

Bellamy's expression firmed and he nodded. "Thanks," he said, low, before rising to his feet and sprinting toward the gate, out toward Clarke, no longer Wick's concern. He had more important things to focus on.

Like Raven and the way her tears already dampened his shirt, the way the heat of her breath warmed the hollow of his throat. The way all of it _hurt_ , a pain he never expected, completely outside himself and his control. 

Wick set his jaw and pulled her closer, like if he squeezed hard enough he could make a dent in her anguish and let her know he was here. But even he knew that was folly, not when Finn was her only family, the only human connection she sought or maintained. 

Wick had known both of them for years. They were a package deal on the Ark, one he didn't much like, but he tolerated because she was brilliant and he was basically inert. Finding out they'd broken up made Wick revise his opinion of Finn down to "idiot," but it was only after whispers of the massacre spread through camp that it occurred to him maybe the ground had broken him. Mowing down a village was not the response of a rational mind. 

Earth showed you who you were, he was realizing, more than anyone seemed to understand.

He ignored the little voice that wondered how he would fare, once he was truly tested. For now, Raven's limp form in his arms was all that mattered. 

The storm of her grief had swept her up, turned her focus inward, heedless of her surroundings. The night was dark, cold. Wick could see his breath in the air, the damp seeping into everything. She wore only her usual coat; she'd probably been too focused on saving Finn to think of anything else, not even the mundane. He'd bet she hadn't eaten, either. 

The shock had worn off the crowd, their stricken faces turning back to go into Alpha, seeking warmth and comfort...or maybe just avoiding the horror show outside. They could bury their heads now that safety had been purchased, Clarke paying the price in blood. 

One after the next, they turned and walked away, shooting glances to Raven as they went—pitying, sad, sympathetic. If she were aware of them, she'd be horrified. But she wasn't, too wrapped up in her own pain to notice anything. He couldn't decide if that was a good thing or not. 

"Time to blow this popsicle stand," Wick muttered, picking her up as he stood. She didn't seem to care about anything at the moment, but he knew her pride better than anyone; she wouldn't want others to see her like this. That was water under the bridge, but he could try to limit the damage. So he cradled her too-light body to his chest and carried her away, slipping through the crowd and into Alpha Station. For once the dimly-lit hallways seemed fitting. 

"At least it's warmer," he muttered, skirting past whispering groups, avoiding anyone who tried to catch his gaze. 

Raven said nothing, face pressed to his shoulder, so still he'd worry if he couldn't feel her ribcage rising and falling with each breath. 

Wick reach the second hallway intersection and hesitated. He didn't really know how to play this. 

"Where to, Reyes? Home?"

He thought using her name might get her attention. He thought wrong. She remained silent and unresponsive, tears leaking down her cheeks, though the wracking sobs had stopped, turning to low-grade shivers. 

"I hate flying blind," he said, low, unsurprised when he didn't get a response. Raven had a room with three other women down by Pass 3, and Wick knew he could take her there...but she'd resent being seen like this, especially by people she couldn't avoid. 

And even if he did, what then? Drop her off? Leave her there to curl into herself and never come out? 

Wick knew himself; he couldn't do that. She'd gotten to him, her prickly exterior shielding a mind that never quit. He was drawn in, even against his will. There was no way he'd up and abandon her. She'd had enough of that.

"Then I guess you're stuck with me," he said as he turned and headed for his own quarters in the unofficial Engineering wing. Apprenticing to the Chief of Engineering meant he was always on call to repair whatever catastrophe befell them, sure, but he got his own private lodging and first dibs on fixing it up. So he had kind of a sweet set-up. 

He probably shouldn't mention that right now. 

Wick navigated the byzantine halls on autopilot, despite the dim or even nonexistent lighting. It didn't matter; he could do this walk drunk and blindfolded. He had, come to think of it. 

Once he shut the door to his quarters behind them, though, then he stopped.

"I didn't actually think this through," he realized. Because sure, he had a sweet set-up, but it wasn't like he was rocking Jaha's old quarters. He had a drafting table and some chairs and a bed and that was it. Well, furniture-wise. The running water in the ensuite was seriously impressive, he'd dare anyone to argue. 

He'd meant to talk to Lee over in Distro about scrounging a couch situation, but hadn't gotten around to it. Hell, he could design the damn thing himself if nothing had survived reentry...

That didn't help him now, though. 

Wick just sighed and did what he had to, carrying her over and depositing her on his bed. 

"I know you're gonna come to and find this presumptuous," he said, getting to work on removing her boots. "So I'd like to lodge a preemptive protest. I defy you to come up with a better plan."

Raven simply folded her arm over her eyes, still intent on shutting out the world. 

He never thought he'd miss her scorn...but he'd take it, and gladly, if it meant it'd wipe the pain from her expression. He didn't quite know what that said about him. Latent masochism coming to the fore?

Right, not the point. 

"That's what I thought," he continued, keeping his tone light. He pulled off one boot and set it aside. "First rule: no boots in bed. I'm all for being dirty, but I prefer to keep the mud out of it."

No reaction. Wick wondered if he could annoy her into breaking her silence...then decided better of it. He might as well not go nuclear until he had to. 

He set her other boot beside the first, making a mental note to find her some decent shoelaces, but then he hesitated again. She was lying right where he put her, arm still covering her eyes, the picture of misery. There was nothing he could do about that...but he could make her a little more comfortable. 

"Being serious now: are you gonna deck me if I take your brace off?" The brace was designed to support her when she was on her feet; it did nothing but chafe when she was lying down, so there was no reason to keep it on. Except pride, maybe. 

Raven remained silent. Not helpful. 

He debated it, but then, he already had her in his room and his bed. He'd pushed them across plenty of boundaries. What was one more?

"Okay, I'm taking that as agreement. You want me to stop, you say stop." With careful hands, he unsnapped and eased off her brace, mildly impressed by the functionality of the new design, not that he'd admit it. Well, not without a few drinks, anyway. 

Raven didn't even react as he slid it off her leg and set it within reach. That told him, more than anything, that this was bad. There were a few things that always made her snap: her mom, her leg, and Finn. If she wasn't even doing that...

Wick backed off, watching her and kind of fidgeting a little—he could admit it to himself at least. Just...now what? He'd brought her inside, away from prying eyes, he'd made her as comfortable as possible...so now what?

Raven looked forlorn, alone and small, nothing like the fierce woman who challenged him at every turn. The Raven he knew was full of fire; he didn't know how to handle her silent and still like this. Wick swallowed, helpless and hating it. He couldn't _do_ anything to make this better. 

But neither could he just leave her there to suffer. 

"Okay, that whole 'stop' thing applies here, too." Wick didn't think too much about it, he just kicked off his own boots and climbed into bed beside her, lying down and pulling her close.

She didn't react to his touch, so unlike her it made him _ache_. If she were herself she'd be kicking and screaming, letting the world know what was what. Instead she just went where she was moved, her head settling onto his chest, eyes scrunched up in pain. 

Wick stayed like that for a while, syncing his breathing to hers, the two of them warming up the bed, warming each other. Finally, he spoke, keeping his voice a low rumble between them: "You're not alone, Raven. You don't have to go through this alone."

The silence swallowed them again. Raven must have heard him, but whether she truly _heard_ him...he had no idea. He never knew anything when it came to her. All he could do was prove to her that he meant what he said.

He just didn't know if that made a damn bit of difference. 

***

Eventually, Raven fell asleep. For her, the day had started with the grounders demanding Finn's head and had been spent doing everything she could to avoid that fate...until she failed. Of course she was exhausted, falling into a heavy sleep, breaths deep and even. He hoped she actually got some rest. 

Wick took the opportunity to slip out for some supplies. He spotted Sinclair in their makeshift commissary, getting less makeshift and more permanent every day, groups of tables and chairs scattered throughout one of the old cargo bays. People had started decorating, setting fresh flowers on the tables, trying to make it all a little less depressing. They had miles to go. 

Sinclair sat at one such table, drinking something he hoped had alcohol in it. Their eyes met, but Sinclair just raised his glass, a tired acknowledgment. 

And with that, Wick knew he wasn't in the shit. It was probably hard to stay angry when you had the body of a dead kid being dragged off a pole. He wandered over to Sinclair, taking the offered seat. He relaxed into it with a sigh that sounded more tired than he realized. 

"So that sucked."

"Indeed," Sinclair said, in that you're-seriously-underselling-it tone of voice he had. "How's Reyes?"

Wick just shot him a look. He was far too smart to ask that kind of question. 

"Yeah, I figured," Sinclair said. He shook his head and took another swig from his tin cup. "Did you know him?"

Wick shrugged. "Tangentially. Raven was always sniffing around and he orbited her. Didn't seem like much there."

He probably couldn't say that to anyone else without it coming off as vaguely insulting—and maybe it still was—but Wick knew that Sinclair would understand what he truly meant. Finn may have had the soul of a poet or the dick of a rock star or whatever the fuck, but he didn't truly have a mind at work. Call Wick a snob, but that was what he looked for. They all did, even Raven, though she didn't seem to consciously get that. 

Sinclair accepted it with an understanding nod. Sometimes it was nice to have someone who understood exactly what you meant without having to spell it out. 

Raven probably felt that way about Finn. And now he was gone. Wick frowned at the thought. He slumped onto the table, resting his chin on his hand. 

"It's just," he started, then broke off, wondering how to summarize it. "I'm fucking useless."

Sinclair half-smiled. "We both know that's not true." 

"It is. I can take her boots off. Get a protein bar." Wick made a whoop-de-do gesture with his hand. "Go me."

"Yes, you can't magically cure emotions. Clearly you're a failure as a man."

"Okay, I could do with a little less ridicule here."

"And what's the chance of that happening?" Sinclair asked, mild as always. Something about the familiarity of it actually made Wick feel better. It was probably fucked up, but that was hardly new.

Sinclair continued on, a sympathetic note to his voice: "What we do...we're trained to fix things. But sometimes, things just are." He caught Wick's eye, trying to impart some knowledge with that look alone.

After a moment, Wick sighed and nodded. It didn't change anything, but at least it wasn't just him.

Sinclair nodded back. Then he looked down, seeming to debate something. The two of them had a shorthand, so in tune it felt like they could read each other's mind at times, but Wick had no idea what he was thinking right now. 

"Be careful there," Sinclair finally said, soft. 

Wick blinked, surprised. "When am I not careful?" he asked with a self-deprecating smile.

Normally that'd get an eyeroll and mildly-delivered sarcasm, but this time Sinclair didn't take the bait. He watched Wick steadily, his no-bullshit expression in place. "She's hurt, you're around, things happen."

Wick tilted his head, assessing. "Didn't know you had such a low opinion of me."

Sinclair _did_ roll his eyes then, so at least that wasn't the concern. But he said it aloud anyway: "Now you're insulting me." He shook his head. "My worry is her, not you. That door closes, it won't open again." He said it like they both knew what it meant. Like this was a public _thing_ they'd talked about and not some mildly humiliating revelation. 

Wick wondered exactly how transparent he was. He wondered if _everyone_ knew. 

And then he shut that shit down. What did it matter, anyway? Sure, he didn't like people in his business, but he'd given up on caring what they thought ages ago. No reason to start again now. 

"That door was never open at all." He shrugged. "Them's the breaks."

Sinclair swayed his cup in a gesture of approximation. "You should check your premises."

Wick stilled, wondering what Sinclair knew that he didn't. He let it play out in his head for a moment...but it still didn't matter because Finn was dead and everything was fucked. 

Sinclair seemed to read it in him. His expression softened. "Someday this will be past. When that day comes, you don't want to be stuck with legacy code. Just...keep it in mind."

A little startled, Wick nodded. 

"Good. Now get out of here. I'm giving you bereavement leave."

"Is that even a thing?"

"I'm making it one. Leave before I rescind it and order you to scrub air filters again."

Wick was on his feet before he knew it. That level of hell could stay well in the past, thank you. He saluted Sinclair ironically, then grabbed some protein bars and hurried back to Raven. 

***

Raven lay just where he left her, brow furrowed in sleep. Tension he didn't even realize existed eased out of his shoulders. If she could clock a few solid hours, at least that was a start. Wick kicked off his boots again and sat down on the edge of the bed. 

Her eyes flew open, searching wildly for a moment before focusing on him. Then they narrowed. 

Raven promptly sat up and shoved him off the bed, Wick letting out a pained yelp as his ass hit the metal floor.

"What the hell?!" he said, looking at her askance. 

But Raven just glared at him, fury masking the grief. "Stay the hell away from me."

"Okay, jeez, you could have just said so." Wick slumped back against the wall beside the bed, bringing his knees up so he could rest his arms there. 

His immediate submission seemed to throw her, like she'd expected a fight. Her eyes scanned his face intently, but she didn't say anything. She just kept watching him.

"What?" he finally asked, breaking the uncomfortable silence.

"I didn't ask for your help, Wick."

"Yeah, well too bad. You got it whether you want it or not." If she was gonna get pissy, he could meet her move for move. 

"What do you care, anyway?"

Wick stilled. That road could get them into very dangerous territory, he knew, so he took another tack. "Look, if you want to fight, I'll give you a fight, but I don't think either of us will come out better for it."

Again, she seemed taken aback, not expecting that honesty. For an instant she looked tempted, like the anger could burn away the vortex of grief sucking her in. 

Then she deflated. All the fight just drained from her expression, leaving only exhaustion so complete she looked haggard. She didn't even respond to him, instead sinking back into the pillows, pulling her knees up and mirroring his pose. The room descended into silence again, Raven seeming to fold in on herself, waging some kind of internal battle. Whatever was going on in her head, he wasn't a part of it, not really. And that was just the way it was. 

Wick had no idea how long they stayed like that. His ass went numb, his arms tired... 

Then she spoke. 

"I took the spacewalk," she whispered, something lost, broken in her voice. 

Wick just stayed where he was, back to the wall, ignoring his aches and pains and simply nodding in acceptance. 

When he didn't say anything, she raised her head. "Did you hear me?"

Wick rolled his eyes because even if she was grieving he wasn't about to treat her differently. "No duh you took the spacewalk," he shot back. 

And that seemed to surprise her back to her old self for a moment. She glared at him. "What do you mean?"

"I know Finn. And I certainly know you. You think I bought that bullshit story you two cooked up? Please. That's just insulting."

That gave Raven pause. The glare disappeared, morphing into something lost again. "You knew?"

"Zero-G was your dream. It took me a while to figure it out, after you got into the program and kept smashing records left and right. But yeah, I knew. It wasn't a half-bad plan," he said, almost an afterthought. "Kept you from getting killed."

"His idea," she admitted. "It was all his idea but I...I did it. If I hadn't, he wouldn't have gotten locked up. He wouldn't have come to the ground," she said, a hollow note to her voice. _He wouldn't be dead_ hung on the air, unspoken. 

"Yeah. Instead you both would've died on the Ark," Wick shot back, laying out the obvious. 

Raven's eyes flew to his, surprised. But she didn't say anything. 

Wick softened his tone. "The Exodus ship boned our structural integrity; we lost more than half the population. And the people who survived that? Most of them died during reentry. I'm a fucking miracle, let me tell you."

When she didn't smile, Wick just continued on. "What you're doing right now, playing the what-if game, it goes the other way, too. And say what you want, but I'm glad it went down the way it did. I don't much like the thought of a universe without you in it, Reyes. It seems to me Finn made that same choice, back when he took the fall for you."

Despair flickered through Raven's expression. "He can't make any choices now."

Wick inclined his head at that. Fair enough. But still. "I know what you're doing, bringing all this back to you. Like it's all your fault that Finn is...gone." Her eyes filled, so Wick powered through. "But that's not on you. Yeah, you did what you did, but so did he." And they both knew that she had nothing to do with Finn going all Rambo on an innocent village. 

"That's just how it is. We do what we do and then we live with it."

"Or not," she finally said. 

"Or not," he agreed, grim.

Raven held his look for a long, long moment. Then she turned her back on him, lying down to hopefully sleep some more. 

Somehow, Wick doubted that would happen.

***

Eventually it did. As soon as her breaths were rhythmic and even again, Wick stood and went to his drafting table, surveying his designs. He glanced back to Raven on the bed—small and so very alone, but that was how she wanted it. 

Wick shook his head and sat, pulling out his latest design for a cobbled-together portable gravity fed water filter. Sinclair had just sighed at the last version, but it would make long-range exploration actually possible, so Wick was trying again. 

He lost himself in it, neat lines and measurements, ideas about materials they already had or could make. Everything here was straightforward—problems and solutions, so clearly laid out, so obvious to work through. Unambiguous.

The sound of Raven stirring made him look up. She turned over to face him, eyes fluttering as she woke, something constricting in his chest at the sight. It cracked his focus, pulling him back into the here and now and the aching helplessness of it all. 

Right. He'd get no more work done now.

Dimly, Wick realized his stomach was grumbling. He hadn't eaten since midday. No doubt Raven hadn't eaten since long before that. She must be starving, though of course she wouldn't think to do anything about it. 

Well, that was one thing he could take care of. He stood and grabbed one of the protein bars he'd collected earlier. 

"Hey, you should eat," he said, walking over and offering it. 

For a moment Raven just stared at the bar in his hand. He opened his mouth to ask what was wrong—

And she grabbed him and _pulled_ , Wick stumbling, half-falling onto the side of the bed. When he looked up, she was _right there_ , eyes boring into his.

Wick froze. Normally, he'd know what that look meant, but this was Raven and—

She leaned in, eyes dropping to his mouth, all the warning he got before she pressed their lips together, soft. Raven kissed him like _he_ might break, careful but still firm, still intent, passion lurking beneath.

Dammit. 

_God fucking dammit_.

There was no good way for Wick to play this. If he pulled back, she'd think he was rejecting her. If he kissed her, if he fell into this insanity with her, she'd use it against him later, to push him away. He could not win. 

Even as he thought through it, Wick resigned himself to the loss. This was over before he had a chance. Sinclair's earlier warning echoed through his mind; how right he'd been. 

But fuck it. He might as well salvage something. So when Raven tilted her head, he moved in counterpoint, finally giving in and letting himself kiss her back. If this was the one shot he'd get before she blew it up, he was going to _feel_ it. 

Wick let go of the protein bar and brought a hand to her jaw, thumbing the softness just beneath her ear as his lips moved over hers, more aggressive now. He took the kisses she offered, pressing close, nipping at her bottom lip until she sucked in a breath, mouth opening—

Then it was a real kiss, Raven pressing herself into his chest, the electric slide of their tongues lighting up his body from his mouth straight on down. He could get lost in this.

He didn't even know what this was. 

The thought jolted him back. Wick broke the kiss and breathed in deep, pressing their foreheads together. He held her off when she tried to find his mouth again. 

"Wick?" she asked, voice a husky rumble that went straight to his dick. Dammit.

"That's a bad idea," he said, wishing he didn't sound like they'd gone three rounds and all he wanted was more. Hell, he wished a lot of things, chief among them that he could say for sure where this was coming from. Whether this was Raven reaching for _him_ or just anyone. 

Raven scoffed, like she didn't believe it. "Come on..."

Wick interrupted her. "No, Raven." She stiffened at the firm note in his voice, uncertainty suddenly leaking in, so he softened his tone. "Hey. We're only doing this if you want me; not if you want to forget about someone else."

Raven looked away, shaking her head, like she was at a loss. She didn't speak for a moment, working up to something in her head. When she did, her voice was a whisper: "I don't want to feel like this."

Wick closed his eyes at that, but no, _this wasn't about him_. Or it shouldn't be. He ran a hand over his mouth, sitting back and putting some distance between them.

"I wish I could make it better, but I can't. _I can't_." Shaking his head, Wick started to stand—

Raven's hand shot out, gripping hold of his arm, keeping him in place. "Don't."

"Raven..."

She held on, a storm of emotions passing over her expression even as she wouldn't meet his eyes at all. "Please..." she trailed off. Finally she looked at him, too much pain there to grasp. "I don't want to be alone."

Wick was nodding before he'd consciously made the decision. There was no way, _no way_ , he could leave her like this. Not when she'd asked.

Raven's face crumpled, tears leaking from her eyes again. This time when she reached for him, it was innocent, just seeking simple human comfort. 

Wick wrapped her in his arms, swallowing against the tightness in his throat, holding her as she cried for the only family who ever mattered. 

He had no idea what any of it meant, where they stood, where they went from here...but for this moment, she wanted him with her. And that was something. 

***

Fin. Comments are adored.


End file.
